Romance with a Bite

by Tamsin Baker

  I fought the descent of my fangs. This wasn’t a coupling. We were two humans stoking the fire that burned between us. I could be one of those humans for just one afternoon.

  I ducked my head, hungry to taste her and pleasure her until she screamed my name and begged me to take her.

  Her knees snapped shut and she grabbed a fistful of hair. “No tasting below the waist.”

  Lagoon-blue eyes flashed stormy and almost gray. She licked her lips and pulled my head up, proving there were more than enough offerings above the waist to occupy me.

  Full, weighty breasts with nipples the shade of ripe, juicy plums begged for attention.

  I ducked and tasted. Her body arched, pushing the ripe bud hard against my tongue. I cupped her breast and squeezed, stroking the tip with my tongue, sucking hard and deep, eliciting cries that darted with lightning-like precision straight for my throbbing cock.

  Her hands fumbled with my jacket. I pulled back, dropped a condom onto the desk beside her, making light work of my clothes, all the while burning beneath her unabashed scrutiny. Her gaze followed the shedding of my clothes, from my chest, over my abs, down further still. It latched onto my erection and my cock pulsed as if her hands had wrapped round its girth and squeezed.

  Then she sat up and did just that.

  Fuck. Me.

  “I fully intend to.” Wet lips wrapped around the words, her eyes a wicked promise of delights to come.

  I must have squeezed out the plea as her hand slipped down and squeezed my balls. Need surged inside, my balls so fucking tight, they’d well surpassed blue. I jerked free of her palm and slid on the condom. Her legs were already open and I pulled her delicious ass forwards, splaying her legs wider still, before sinking into her sweet, supple heat.

  Fuck.

  I closed my eyes and pushed back every one of my vampiristic inclinations, allowing whatever was left of the man I once was to take over. The feeling went beyond magical. Beyond anything dreams or legends had promised.

  I was home.

  Chapter 9

  Tiffany

  With one, swift motion, Gideon thrust into me. Solid, male muscle stretched me and filled me, his wondrous girth stroking my clit with every delicious slide in and out.

  I gasped, wrapped my legs around his taut, beautiful body and tilted my hips, wanting more of him. All of him.

  His eyes glowed green with flecks of shimmering gold. That hypnotic gaze bored into my soul, as his hard, thick cock pounded into my body. His fingers joined his cock, brushing that tight knot of nerves at my entrance and I almost leapt from my skin. Those sure, magical fingers found my G-spot and strummed my body into song. If I’d had spots A to F, damn straight, he’d have strummed music into them too.

  I skimmed my hands up my body, palming my breasts, squeezing my nipples. They were so tight, so hard, intense pleasure bordering on pain.

  His hands joined mine and my body spiraled. I’d never felt so hot, so horny, so much fucking sensation from one man. I wanted release, I didn’t. I wanted to orgasm. I never wanted the sensation to end. It was a high bought from the purest of cravings.

  He flicked a nipple and I squealed.

  “Say my name.”

  It was an order, one barked through lips drawn tight with anticipation.

  He flicked again, then squeezed, twisting the bud until I thought I might die from the pleasure. He thrust again, his thumb circling my clit, making me crazy. I closed my eyes and dropped my head back, slave to the sensation. To the hedonistic rapture Gideon milked from my body.

  “Look at me and say my name, Tiff.”

  Something in that commanding, no-nonsense voice dragged my eyes open and tugged his name from my lips.

  “Gideon.”

  He tweaked and plucked my clit in time with each and every thrust. Fissures of sensation sparked through my body, exploding in orgasmic release that had me crying his name once again.

  He growled, his cock pulsing as he unleashed into me. His power, his possession, frightening and fulfilling, all in one.

  I clutched his taut, toned buttocks, stilling him, holding him deep as my body milked every last drop from his magnificent, pleasure-ridden cock.

  A sigh escaped, rising out from every satiated cell. “Fuck me.”

  He grinned, that cocky, alpha male “I’ve got you right where I want you” grin, steeped in satisfaction and pure, male supremacy. “I believe I just did.”

  *

  Every ounce of energy had zapped from my body. I was liquid. Lava. A languorous puddle of hedonistic gratification splayed across a desk I’d never be able to work on again.

  Gideon fucking Fang.

  Why him?

  That supercilious smile made me want to slap him, then fuck him all over again. All fifty shades of fuckability.

  Not happening. Not when this was a one-time thing. My words, my stipulations. And I had every intention of keeping them.

  He withdrew that beautiful organ from my body and my pussy howled. His palm felt cool against my skin as it slid down towards the still thrumming flesh between my thighs.

  “So fucking wet.”

  I was. Unheard of. Even Sammy didn’t elicit half the response Gideon had.

  Was still drawing from my spent body. One finger rubbed my G-spot, the other rubbed my super-sensitive clit. I was climbing again, and I hadn’t even come down from before.

  His gaze still glistened gold, his mouth clamped firmly closed, as if biting back his own arousal.

  He dipped his head, mouth tugging and twirling my nipple, fingers pumping me until I screamed. Alpha or not, the man was anything but selfish. That encore was all about me.

  And from his expression, the way his gaze fixated on my flesh still pulsing hungrily around his fingers, he wanted to give me more.

  Fuck, yes.

  I wanted his mouth there, his tongue fucking me until I forgot my name and every goddam reason why this should never have happened in the first place. And if sauce was involved—caramel or chocolate, I wasn’t fussy—or even that dripping, thick honey, I wouldn’t complain.

  And there lay the basis why there would never—could never—be a repeat performance. Any more than a one or two night stand, and whatever was in me that made men hate—that made them lash out and hurt—would raise its ugly head and cause its evil havoc. I was helpless to stop it, so better I didn’t let its spiral begin.

  Now was the moment to scrape myself up, dust myself off, thank him for the orgasm of my life, then move on. If only my legs weren’t sticks of jelly and my mind wasn’t so scrambled it was even now trying to devise a way to make this less of a finale and more of an hors d’Oeuvre.

  Stupid bitch.

  Richards words, but at this precise moment, I believed them.

  The moment was beyond morning after awkward.

  I scooched back, away from those magic fingers, and pushed up, closing my legs to that orgasm-triggering gaze.

  He turned away, his shoulders stiffening, his ragged breathing slowing. When he turned back again, his eyes were more green than gold, and his expression had shuttered.

  Clothes littered the floor, mine intermingled with his. I scrambled down and grabbed my shirt, tossing him his briefs. His still exposed, still semi-aroused cock would be my undoing. He needed to cover up and give me breathing space to think and reason, and leave before I did something stupid, like beg for an encore.

  Gideon fucking Fang.

  The bastard made me want things I hadn’t believed possible since I was a teen.

  Stupid bitch.

  Would I never learn?

  I had to go.

  “So, how are we going to do this?” That deep, sex-curling voice wound through my thoughts and tugged.

  My shirt was on, my g-string tight and rubbing against flesh still singing from his rip-roaring assault. I dragged up my pants and focused on the mess of papers and pens on the floor. “Do what?”

  “Work together when we know how good we can be.” />
  “Sex is just sex, Gideon.” I spared his now jeans-clad body a glance. “Don’t confuse what we just did for more.”

  My inner goddess winced, her post-orgasmic glow at odds with my words.

  His lips twisted in what I could only label as distaste. Something deeper, darker, flickered in his eyes. I felt his scrutiny, as if his very being were burrowing deep into my brain.

  Silence clamored against my eardrums. The world receded, leaving nothing but me and the heat smoldering between us.

  My heart stuttered.

  I swallowed, drawn to him by some invisible thread. A pull that made me take one crawling step towards him.

  He shook his head and dragged his gaze from mine, slipping into his jacket, scrunching his sexy black t-shirt in his big, magical hand. “If you can’t tell the difference between sex and more, then you’re not the woman I thought you were.”

  With that—and my heart ricocheting rebelliously in my chest—he turned and silently slipped through the door.

  Chapter 10

  Gideon

  There were so many elements of wrong in what I was about to do.

  My hand slipped into my pocket, and wrapped around Tiff’s keycard—the solution to my restricted area access problem. I could now move freely within all areas of Hagen Pharmaceuticals’ main building, restricted or otherwise. Then, of course, she’d handed me access to the restricted cold room when she’d entered the code within hearing range.

  And if my gut twisted around the morals of my actions, I just had to consider the consequences of not acting, of Mannie’s serum entering production, and the gradual genocide of my kind.

  Vampires.

  From the beginning of time, we’d fallen victim to a string of nefarious legends. Labeled murderers. Rogues of the night. Slaves to a bloodlust and enemy to all mankind.

  In truth, we’re a race trapped in a living hell by an ancient curse. Yes, we feast on blood’s iron-richness to survive. And, yes, we can kill and turn others through zahŕňa. Most sane, pre-changed vamps recoil at the thought, which is why we’re primarily a dying race—an ironic contradiction for a clan seemingly afflicted with immortality.

  But that immortality comes at a price.

  For those of us fortunate enough to find our soulmate and undergo úspory, we reclaim our souls and live relatively normal, mortal lives. For those not so lucky, two alternatives exist—termination of our undead life via a mercy killing, or finally surrendering to zmena—an eternity wandering the earth beneath a veil of uncontrollable madness and blood-lust.

  The newly discovered flu super virus presented a graver third alternative. With its rapid airborne spreadability worldwide, the World Health Organization had jumped in, feet first, proposing a comprehensive, quick-fix solution—release the new antidote into the air and facilitate blanket immunization.

  The Greens and environmentalists loudly protested, but global panic had won out.

  In less than two weeks, production would begin, ready for a coordinated worldwide release. All in order to prevent the predicted, worldwide pandemic.

  It all seemed so tidy and neat—beat an airborne virus with another airborne virus. Save the world.

  But for one, unforeseeable hitch—the antidote’s active protein irreversibly inactivates a vamp’s “soul” gene. And the moment it does, we undergo zmena. Our psychosis is swift and severe, sparking a blood frenzy to rival any zombie apocalypse. The result of which would eventually lead to the extinction of both races.

  For the sake of my species, and for the sake of the humans with whom we coexist, something had to be done.

  Hence, my duplicity towards Tiff was justified.

  The reasoning still didn’t quash the unease in my gut.

  I flashed the keycard at the sensor and pushed through the glass door. Only two hours since we’d entered these doors together, then I’d entered Tiff and totally lost myself in the process. We may not have performed párovan—the pairing ritual that would see me saved—but something in me felt irrevocably linked to her.

  My life—regardless of the madness that awaited if we didn’t pair—would never be the same again.

  I stopped outside the cold room. Only the whirr of the motor and an intermittent buzz of one of the hallway lights cut through the calm.

  I swiped the keycard, entered the code and pulled open the door. It didn’t take long to find the master serum. Normally I’d have no need for gloves or a mask—immortality had its advantages. But this time I donned both. Using a syringe, I transferred a sample into a vial from my pocket, then replaced the master just as I’d found it. Within minutes I was exiting the building and heading for my bike. I needed to get the sample to our lab so the techies could get started on creating an alternative.

  Ours wasn’t the only mission. Each and every known lab worldwide had been infiltrated. Every known antidote would be tested, and once relevant alternatives were derived, the master antidotes would be replaced and the formula altered. If all went to plan, no one would be the wiser. Spread of the virus would be curtailed, and vamps could continue to roam the earth, undisturbed. Unproven to man outside of folklore and legends.

  Meantime, I was to wait for instructions, ingratiating myself deeper into Mannie’s life, allowing me access to his formula if and when it was needed.

  Thankfully, not a full-time pursuit.

  That gave me time to strategize how to convince Tiff we were more than a one-night fuck.

  Chapter 11

  Tiffany

  Before meeting “he who shall not be named,” there was only one thing I hated more than arriving late for work—arriving late, only to discover I’d misplaced my keycard.

  Now, since that fateful meeting, only one hate trumped even that. It was suspecting that said keycard had fallen somewhere on my office floor while Gideon and I had done what we shouldn’t, what even now refused to stop replaying over and over in my mind.

  A recalcitrant throb started up between my thighs. A throb that said my body wanted more than just the memory.

  Yeah. That hate trumped any I could come up with.

  Or so I thought, till I checked on my bike and found it where I’d left it. Punctureless.

  Gideon fucking Fang.

  Bad enough I’d fucked the guy, I didn’t want to like him as well.

  I was off to a rip-roaring start to the day. I’d slept through my alarm, no doubt because I hadn’t sunk into sleep until just before dawn. Thank you, Gideon. My Uber had taken a record fifteen minutes to arrive, leaving me with no time to pick up a coffee on the way. Then I’d madly hunted through my purse and pockets only to discover a pack of sugar-coated gummy bears had spilled all through my bag, and no keycard.

  After more than a few unsavory epithets, I’d called Mannie to let me in—given he always started as early, if not earlier, than me. I’d not appreciated his expression as we’d walked down the main corridor together. Another mark against Gideon.

  My keycard was lying under my desk. Less than a foot from the spot where we’d fucked each other’s brains out.

  The coffee machine in the break room wasn’t working and I couldn’t fix my mind on work and off Gideon’s cock pounding pleasure into my body.

  Mark number three going on thirty.

  I was absolutely and totally fucked. Thank fuck it was Friday—at least one good wave in a sea of bedlam. I slumped further into my ergonomic office chair and banged my head on my desk. Perhaps in the process, I’d knock some sense into my brain.

  What the fuck was I supposed to do?

  “Soy latte with one sugar, right?”

  My gaze shot from the aroma-rich takeaway cup to the man offering it to me.

  Need shivered through my blood.

  Gideon fucking Fang.

  I don’t know what was worse. The fact he’d paid attention enough to know my beverage of choice, the fact he’d sensed my lack of caffeine and acted on it, or the fact he looked so fuckable—and damned well likeable—handing me a coffee
in my moment of need.

  I took the cup from his outstretched hand. It would have been churlish—and stupid, given my caffeine-starved body—not to.

  “Thanks.” The word rasped from my desert-dry mouth.

  His grin sent me fifty shades of hot and horny. I clamped my thighs and lifted the cup to my lips.

  “Is the coffee machine here always so unreliable?” He perched on my desk, sipping from his own cup, his thick, muscular thigh stretching the limits of tight, black denim. Fuckola. Denim over a hot bod was like hot fudge sauce over pretty much anything.

  Irresistible.

  Once again, Gideon made my mind wander to sauce. And how I wanted it slathered over my body so he could lap it up with his masterful tongue.

  Need, hot and thick, swamped my veins. I knocked back a mouthful of coffee, scalding my tongue in the process. Just desserts for entertaining such flagrant, forbidden thoughts. He was off limits, as were any notions of revisiting last night’s activities.

  “Tiff?”

  My gaze slid towards that rich-as-honey voice. “Ah, yeah.” I cleared my throat. I’d been speaking since well before I could walk. Why was it so difficult now? “It has a knack for timing.”

  He nodded. Didn’t comment on why I’d need coffee more this morning than any other. My Gideon like-o-meter edged upwards.

  “What are you working on?”

  That was easy. Unemotional. Non-personal. Safe. “Mannie asked me to glance over his draft notes on the Influenza A antidote. He has one more test before the final report is due to the HHS late next week and a fresh pair of eyes is always useful when editing.” And he couldn’t send it unchecked to the US Department of Health and Human Services. Hence, I’d been asked to step in and do what I do best. Make the senior, male members of our lab look good.

  Bitter much? Yeah, well I had every reason.

  Again Gideon nodded, acting as if every one of my words were the most interesting he’d heard all morning. My GLOM edged up a few more notches.

  “Did you hear Mannie’s taking up a senior scientist position in WHO after this project?”